


Airborne

by lovcats



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/F, US Army AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-24 20:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3783769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovcats/pseuds/lovcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Piper McLean is Thalia's no-nonsense Sergeant Airborne at Airborne school, US Army paratrooper training, which Thalia takes during one summer when she's a Cadet at the US Military Academy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cadence

Fort Benning, GA

The sun had only just risen, and even slanting it was beating down on the paratrooper trainees running in formation. The group pace was stupid slow. It would have been extremely annoying, but Cadet Thalia Grace didn't feel the dust they kicked up clinging to her sweating limbs. She didn't feel her feet plodding in time – rather, she felt as if she were floating, buoyed up in the soupy hot air, borne along in the wake of one perfect point of focus, Sergeant Airborne's ringing voice.

> Up in the morning before dawn  
>  Roll out of bed and put my jump boots on  
>  Eat my breakfast too damn soon  
>  Hungry as a hound dog by noon  
> 

Army marching songs – cadences – were silly but good for morale. They were cute and funny and distracting. (Sergeant Airborne herself was cute and _serious_ and distracting.) Thalia felt willing to follow that voice anywhere – into battle, drudgery, or the unknown, just to keep listening.  


But Thalia's listening pleasure ended when the run did. She tried to keep the sound in her mind as she ran into the barracks, piling into the shower room with 10 other young women hustling to get clean and properly dressed before breakfast formation. She scowled as the memory of the voice wouldn't replay in her mind. The girl next to her snapped,  
“Hey. You got a problem, Grace?”  
Thalia laughed. “No, dude. Sorry, I'm not frowning at you. Blind as a bat without my glasses.”  
“Ok,” the soldier (Gardiner, Thalia thought her name was) replied. “So, whaterya grumpy about then?”  
“This sounds dumb. I just, I never heard anybody call cadence better than Sergeant McLean this morning,” Thalia started to explain, as she rushed to wash her whole body with one big dose of shampoo. “Ugh! It's just, PT _sucks_ in this _climate_ , huh? But the Sergeant's voice took my head right out of it and right into this kind of a _zone_ , you know?” Thalia explained. Her companion laughed,  
“Naw, I don't get it – but, good for you, Grace!”  
“Thanks, I guess” grumbled Thalia as she shut off the water, squinting, and trying to remember which of a dozen identical towels was hers.

* * *

The Airborne instructor somehow seemed to radiate confident leadership without assuming any noticeably masculine poses or airs. Thalia noticed that thought might be problematic, and scolded herself, “Stop conflating masculinity and leadership.” Rather than fretting about her own gender insecurity and overcompensation, Thalia distracted herself by studying the sergeant as she stood at attention in breakfast formation.

First, Thalia admired Sergeant McLean's seemingly effortless military poise. Even in uniform, she somehow stood out. Was it her flawless posture, or her perfect uniform? She even managed to wear that stupid required hairnet neatly under her black instructor's cap. Regulations required all the long-haired women at Airborne School to wear hairnets. (Thalia thanked frickin' God for the term “pixie cut,” which gave her a way to ask any hairdresser for short hair without outing herself as lesbian. Not that it was a major career hazard anymore - not since “Don't Ask, Don't Tell” had ended, but Thalia's sexuality was none of Random Hairdresser's business, thank you very much.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thalia doesn't know yet that she's scared of heights, you guys!  
> [Army cadences source](http://www.army-fitness.com/Army-Running-Cadences.php)


	2. LaRue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piper's fellow instructor "motivates" the trainees.

For almost two solid days of training, the trainees practiced their parachute landing falls (PLFs) jumping from ground level in a huge pavilion carpeted in wood chips. Piper McLean walked slowly among the soldiers jumping, rolling, and flopping around. Some of the trainees caught on quicker than the rest. Cadet Grace was aptly named, for instance.  
“Grace,” Piper said.  
“Hoo-ah, Sergeant Airborne!” replied the cadet, loud and eager. Piper suppressed an eye roll at the Army platitude. The girl reminded her of her too gung-ho roommate, LaRue, unfortunately the only other female Sergeant Airborne in the company and a difficult person to live with.  
“Follow me,” Piper said, moving over to a struggling trainee named Valdez.  
“Trainees, move down a space!” Piper directed the line to fill in Grace's spot and make room next to Valdez. “Valdez and Grace, you two are partners for the rest of this session. Watch her and copy what she does. Grace, give him tips. Any questions?”  
“No, Sergeant Airborne!” they both replied. Grace was grinning like it was Christmas. McLean liked her attitude, but wondered what made her so _happy_. Probably just thrilled to get to jump out of airplanes.  
Two rows away, LaRue berated a trainee. “If you don't fix your form, you're gonna land feet-ass-head from the swing landing trainer, get a concussion, and go home without jump wings!”

The morning PT runs got longer, and some of the trainees started to struggle to stay in formation. LaRue lectured the girls in their barracks, “More than half of you will fail out of Airborne School! Don't be one of those women! Drink water and don't fall out of formation! And don't let me see you near the men's barracks, any of you hoochie-mamas!”  
“Oh my god,” thought Piper, I have to get her to back off the slut-shaming shtick.   
Piper's platoon lost two women and two men who sustained minor injuries or were just too out of shape.

Another one of the women trainees, Specialist Beauregard, was obviously struggling, and it attracted LaRue's attention. Piper headed LaRue off in correcting Beauregard more than once to spare her LaRue's rough “motivation.” On Saturday morning, the last day of “ground week,” the heat and humidity was the worst so far, and the run was a grueling 4 miles. Piper was not surprised to see Beauregard stumbling behind, increasingly trailing the formation as they finished the run's first mile. LaRue's platoon was just behind hers, and she knew Beauregard would soon get an earful. Piper worried that the girl would give up on Airborne school and just drop out of the run. She finished a line of her cadence, and heard the trainees sing it back to her; then she barked,  
“Grace!”  
“Yes, Sar'nt Airborne!” hollered the peppy cadet.  
“Fall in on me!”  
“Hoo-ah!” yelled the girl, slipping out of the ranks and jogging to Piper's side.  
“Call cadence for us, will you?” Piper asked her.  
Grace agreed with a happy bellow, “Yes, Seargent Airborne!” And Piper fell back to Beauregard's side to pep-talk her.  
“Let's go, Beauregard. We can do it, you and me.”  
“Yes, Sergeant Airborne,” panted the young specialist. Piper sang the platoon response to Cadet Grace's cadence, and willed Beauregard to master her exhaustion. She wouldn't fail out of Airborne school that day if Piper could help it.


	3. Tower Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thalia gets a hint of her fear of heights.

The equipment got bigger as the trainees progressed. The first week, known as ground week, had them tumbling around at ground level, then jumping from short platforms of one or two feet. Then they started on the Swing Landing Trainers: harnessed, they jumped from about five feet up, swinging like puppets several feet above the ground. Sergeant Airborne controlled the apparatus that would drop the trainee mid-swing. They needed to learn how to execute a parachute landing fall from different angles and velocities. The height was still pretty low, and Thalia felt like a kid on an oversized playground.

The second week was known as tower week. They still played (as Thalia thought of it) on the Swing Landing Trainers, but they added a new harnessed adventure, the 34 ft. tower. Thalia was in high spirits on Monday after PT and breakfast. She chatted happily with Valdez and Beauregard as they waited in line for the tower. She saw the trainees ahead of her getting strapped in and jumping off for a zip-line style fall/ride. She supposed it looked like fun, but her mind didn't want to think about it. So she mentally practiced the harness instructions they'd been shown, and listened to Beauregard gripe about SGT Airborne LaRue. Valdez had a wicked sense of humor, and soon had Thalia and Beauregard snickering about something off-color at LaRue's expense. They slowly ascended the tower's staircase as their turns approached. Several feet off the ground, a refreshing breeze cooled their faces. But the structure looked less sturdy the higher she climbed, and Thalia's stomach clenched.

Valdez got strapped in. Beauregard was next, and then it would be Thalia's turn. A gust of wind puffed in her face. It was fresh, but it didn't help. Her heart raced, and she wanted to puke. No, she wanted to pee. Or cry. Thalia couldn't decide, but she felt overwhelmed enough to ask the instructor helping Valdez, SGT Airborne Solace, for permission to fall out for the latrine. 

She got off the tower staircase but didn't make it to the latrine before she vomited. SGT LaRue spotted her, and marched to the latrine with her. Thalia was surprised at LaRue's solicitousness. It was a bit rough, and came with embarrassing questions. The sergeant apparently worried that any and all of the women trainees were likely to find themselves pregnant, and so she kept an eye on symptoms that might be morning sickness. Thalia might have laughed if she hadn't been so embarrassed. LaRue was a bit ridiculous. Thalia's mind was at ease on that score – virgin births were pretty rare, she smirked to herself. But she was quite uneasy about her real problem. She didn't want to think about how the tower made her feel, and she certainly didn't want to bring it up with LaRue. Luckily she managed to keep her fear problem to herself, steering the sergeant onto a plausible amateur diagnosis – that her breakfast didn't agree with her. LaRue slapped her on the back and sent her back to the tower with a warning to lay off yogurt for the rest of training.

Now Thalia fell in with a different batch of trainees. Slowly climbing the stairs in line for her turn, Thalia kept her gaze up so as not to get that visual stimulation that made her feel like the structure was so flimsy. Making the last turn, she saw it was now Sergeant Airborne McLean at the top platform of the tower.  
Great. McLean was so _cool_. Thalia really didn't want to look foolish in front of her. She watched her helping and teaching the trainees ahead of her, and somehow it was her turn in no time. McLean smiled at her.  
“Alright there, Grace?” she asked.  
“Ahem – Yes, Sergeant Airborne,” Thalia replied.  
McLean caught her eyes and looked at her steadily.  
“You're gonna be just fine, Grace,” she said. “Show me your harness procedure.”  
Thalia strapped herself in the way she'd been taught, and SGT McLean checked her straps and everything. Before she let her go, though, the sergeant took Thalia by the shoulders, and locked eyes with her again.  
“You've got this,” she said. “I'll see you after.”  
Thalia jumped off the platform with a cranky stomach but a light heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Airborne School's tower week](http://www.benning.army.mil/infantry/rtb/1-507th/airborne/tower.html)


	4. Therapy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piper offers Cadet Grace some extremely amateur therapy to help with her fear of heights.

Virtually every Airborne trainee had to overcome a certain amount of fear of heights. Maybe Piper had grown too used to seeing them struggle with it. Whatever the reason, it took her too long (she scolded herself) to understand that Cadet Grace's problem was more serious than the usual. During tower week, Grace's enthusiasm steadily slipped away. Piper could no longer pick her voice out in the group echoing cadences. Grace still performed adequately on the ground, doing the maneuvers correctly. But she had lost the motivation that formerly had her shouting “Hoo-ah!” and grinning like a maniac. Piper was more observant than most, and she noticed changes in Grace's appearance too. Her eyes looked red, her face pale, her shoulders persistently tensed.  


By Wednesday Piper knew that someone had to intervene, to give the girl some support if she was to complete Airborne School. She followed her out of the mess hall after dinner. The trainees had about an hour of free time before they were required to go to their own barracks for the night.

“Hey, Cadet Grace,” she hailed her.  
“Yes, Sergeant Airborne?” replied Grace, facing Piper and coming to attention.  
“At ease, Cadet,” said Piper, smiling. “We need to talk. You got anything planned? I don't want to step on your free time.”  
“No, Sergeant Airborne. Was just gonna shine my boots,” replied Grace, with a sigh and a sad smile.  
“Oh, good. Let's go to the common room,” Piper said, and lead the way.

The women's barracks had a large common room with a small TV, a ping-pong table, and too many chairs. A few trainees were watching a reality show. Most of the women were still at dinner, or socializing outside with the men, risking LaRue's stink eye. Piper lead Grace to the unoccupied end of the long room, and gestured for her to have a seat. Though there were a few comfortable armchairs, Grace chose a metal folding chair. Was Grace on the defensive all ready? The Army's leadership training covered a lot of ground, but never in enough depth. Piper didn't feel prepared for delicate interpersonal communication. She would have to wing it, as usual. She settled in a metal chair, mirroring Grace's choice, and repositioning it for easier eye contact. How to start?

“Ahem. Ok, Grace, how do I put this... It is fine to be Johnny Gung-Ho, pop off as loud as you can, motivate yourself and the other trainees. In fact, it's awesome.”  
Grace nodded.  
Piper continued, “It's also fine to keep your head down, stay in the middle of the pack, grit your teeth and just try to get through the training. It's not your job to be the perfect soldier.”  
“Ok...” Grace said.  
Piper sighed. “I just, I'm worried about you 'cause I've seen you go from the first thing, last week, to the second thing, this week.”  
Grace hung her head.

Piper worried she would botch this, make it worse. But she kept talking. “You're doing fine, so far, Grace. But the training's not gonna get easier, and you've got 10 more days to go. It's the heights, isn't it? Everybody's a little scared of it, but … maybe you have it worse than the others. Is it that?”  
“Yes, Sergeant Airborne,” Cadet Grace answered, lifting her head, giving Piper a defiant look even as tears gathered in her eyes.

Piper's heart clenched. She wished she could gather the bright, pained young woman in her arms, catch her tears on her shoulder, murmur comfort in her ear, smooth the tension out of her shoulders and back. But none of those things were appropriate. So she rummaged in one of her cargo pockets and came up with a handkerchief to offer. And she wondered if Grace would feel doubly bad to have a breakdown in this public room. The women's barracks were rather large; there were some offices on this level.

“Grace, please gimme a minute. I'll be right back,” Piper told her. She strode out to the hall. The offices were assigned and labeled, but none of them were the _main_ offices of a Battalion First Sergeant, or the Company Executive Officer, etc., and their rightful occupants hardly ever used them, from what Piper had seen. The Army was often redundant and wasteful. She peered into the First Sergeant's office. There was no computer or even a phone. There were binders on the bookshelf, a mini flag display, and two comfortable looking armchairs across from the desk. Jackpot! If the First Sergeant begrudged her this use of his secondary or possibly tertiary space, he could go to hell. She popped into the latrine and grabbed a dozen paper towels (in case of more tears), then collected Cadet Grace and brought her back to the office.

* * *

Piper spent the rest of Grace's free hour with her in the little-used office. She tried to explain why she wanted to try to help Grace through her heights thing. She was no therapist, but if it turned out that she had some useful skills to help trainees in Grace's position, she wanted to develop them. She warned Grace that she was kind of making this up as she went along, and she should feel free to say “thanks, but no thanks!”

Grace chuckled at Piper's casual disclaimers, and told her that she was thankful for the offered help, amateur as it might be.

Now that they seemed to have committed to do this, Piper was nervous. Should she ask Grace to talk about her background? That was probably too intimate for their professional relationship, though she thought she would be happy to listen if Grace brought it up first. So Piper started talking about relaxation techniques, such as meditation and visualization to manage fear and anxiety. Grace responded pretty well to that, and went off with a smile on her face when it was time for curfew. 

Piper asked her to call her “Sergeant” or “McLean” when they were alone like this. “Sergeant Airborne” was kind of a mouthful. Grace agreed, with a blush rising on her cheeks. That was cuter than it should have been. Piper worried. What would her arrangement with Grace look like to others? Like, what would somebody like LaRue think? Piper could imagine what LaRue would say about a male instructor spending time alone with a female trainee, or vice-versa. What would LaRue say about this, _if she knew that Piper was bisexual?_

Maybe next time she would keep Grace in the common room.


End file.
